


A Million Miles Away

by TiaCumberbatch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-27 22:46:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiaCumberbatch/pseuds/TiaCumberbatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after Reichenbach, and John gets devastating news. Sherlock is still hunting down Moriarty's men, including Sebastian Moran.  Twists and turns keep Sherlock and John on their toes, and in the end, someone ends up paying the price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Death?

John Watson sat in the hospital bed, his heart beating at a million miles an hour. Mrs. Hudson had found him hours earlier passed out from god knows what. Maybe from the drugs he had consumed, maybe from the lack of food, at that point, John didn’t care. The doctor came in, his voice a muffled drone, the words “Body” “Shutting down” “Kidney” “heart” standing out to him. He put his hand up, stopping the doctor. “So what you mean to say is I’m dying?"   
  
The doctor nodded solemnly, and John sucked in his breath. “My body is shutting down because-“ He stopped, choking up. Even three years after Sherlock’s death, it still hurts to think about it. He had taken up drugs, even attempted on his life multiple times. He had stood at the spot Sherlock had stood, looking down at the pavement below, wondering if it would hurt. Hurt if he jumped. He had stood there for twenty minutes staring down, but out of the blue he had heard Sherlock’s voice. “Don’t jump, John. Don’t jump.” He shivered thinking of him again, his eyes long past the point of crying. Pushing the thoughts aside, he just nodded to the doctor. “How long do I have?” He asked, looking up at him again.   
  
Doctor Forbes looked down at him, his face sad. “One year at the most. You’re slowly getting worse and worse. I’m worried about you John.”  
John shrugged his words off, not caring that his friend was worried. “You know how I am, Patrick. Sherlock’s gone. He was my best friend, and I can’t I can’t live without him.” He said.  
  
The doctor nodded, sighing. “Come in next month for another check up. Then we’ll see how you’re doing.”  
  
John nodded as the doctor left, then picked up his phone. Scrolling through his contacts, he clicked on Sherlock’s, pressing new message.  
  
  
“Well, Sherlock. I guess in the end it didn’t even matter. I’m literally dying without you. I have a year before I see you again, and I can’t wait. I know you don’t believe in the afterlife, but I do. And I do believe I’ll see you in heaven. We’ve been through too much to not see each other again. I can’t wait to see you. JW” He hesitated, then pressed send, the realization that he was dying finally hitting him.  
  
  
Sinking back into the pillows, he let himself go. Although he promised he would never think about it, he thought what the future would be like. A short future, yes. Spent alone. Without Sherlock, because his best mate was dead. John sighed, closing his eyes. Pictures of Sherlock flashed under his lids. Sherlock with his violin, in his mind palace, giving John those unnoticed glances. He opened his eyes again, trying his hardest to not cry again. Sherlock was dead, and there was no use in trying to bring him back, because it would never happen.  
  
  
One of the nurses came in, Becca was her name. He had become good friends with her with all of his hospital visits in the past year. He had ended up in the psyche ward for three weeks for attempted suicide and drug abuse.  
  
  
“I’m really sorry about everything, John.” She said, brushing her dark brown hair out of her eyes. John looked up at her, another pang of pain in his chest. Her eyes were almost the same blue as his.  
  
  
John shook his head, watching her check the machines. “It’s alright Becca. I really don’t mind. I’ve been living hell.” He looked down at his hands again, sighing.  
  
  
She looked up at him, her eyes sad. “You have people who care about you, John. Don’t throw your life away just because he died.” She said, hesitantly placing her long delicate fingers on his shoulder. “Just take a moment to look around.”  
  
  
He watched her as she left, feeling guilty about what he had said. Of course he had people around him who cared. Even Becca had watched him deteriorate over the past three years. She had been one of the nurses to hold John back while they carried Sherlock away, that’s how they had met.  
  
  
Realization swept over John as his thoughts proceeded. She had been there with John. She had seen him at his weakest point. She really did care about him, and he tossed her aside like nothing. He buried his face in his hands, shaking his head. “Stupid sodding idiot.” He said to himself, glancing over at the clock. The next two hours until he was released were going drag out, just like they always did. John closed his eyes, attempting to fall asleep after a long hard night.


	2. The Chase is on

Fifteen down, three more to go. 

A silence fell over the room as the gun sounded, and the man lowered it. He watched the light haired man fall to the ground in a heap.  
  
The man closed his eyes for a brief second, holding his shoulder. Pain was shooting up and down his arm, and he was positive he had dislocated it. He clenched his teeth, popping it back in with a choked yelp. He bit his lip hard, letting the pain subside.  
  
Looking around the room, he quickly pulled the body onto the bed, attempting to keep the blood around the room at minimum, just to make the cleanup easier.  
  
He looked into the mirror, regretting the decision. His face looked hollow, and he had lost a ton of weight. He was bruised, and his eyes were sunken in. Looking around the room once more, he slipped out, putting the “DO NOT DISTURB” sign on the door to make sure no one came in there.  
  
He walked out onto the street of Florence, watching the people around him with carful eyes. He pulled his hat lower over his blonde hair, grumbling under his breath. He would be heading to Sweden tomorrow to hunt down two more, then Paris for the last.  
  
He pulled out his phone, looking for another hotel to stay at so that no one could track him. He hailed a cab, telling them where to take him.  
  
When he finally arrived, he checked into the hotel, and then went up to his room. Pulling off his coat and hat, he turned on the TV to BBC. Yet another boring news story was on, and he clicked the telly back off. Sitting back on the bed, he pulled out his cellular, scrolling through text messages dating back to four years ago. He wasn’t one to keep messages, except from one person, whom he missed greatly. Leaving them was the hardest thing he’s had to do. He smiled, thinking of those eyes. Dark blue. Always his favorite color. He had modeled his hair dye after his blonde hair. A sandy color, which fit him well.  
  
“I need body disposal at the hotel on Candor Street. Room 221.” He texted his brother, who had been helping him for the last three years.  
  
Right as he sent the message, he got another one.  
  
The name that popped up on the screen almost caused him to gasp. It had been two years since he had gotten a text from this number. August 21st, 2011 was the last time he had gotten a text, and it was said “Goodbye.” He had immediately gotten worried, telling his brother to keep an eye on him, which didn’t fall on deaf ears. Mycroft had jumped in just in time to save John, thanks to Sherlock getting the text.  
  
He opened the message, reading it slowly. The phone fell from his hands, crashing to the floor. John was dying. Dying. And there was nothing Sherlock could do about it. He bent down and picked up his phone, his fingers hovering over the screen. He wanted text John back, but doing that would risk his life. He pressed the home button on his iPhone, setting it to the side.  
  
Pressing his hands to his face, he shook his head, picking up his phone again, tapping out a message.  
  
“Make sure he’s comfortable. I don’t care what you have to do. SH” He sent to Mycroft, needing something to do. He couldn’t let John die alone. But he would be there by his side in three months. Once he killed the rest of Moriarty’s men, he would be free to go back to London. Back to John, back to Mrs. Hudson, back to his job. Consulting detective. Those words sounded so strange to him now. The only one in the world. Alone.  
  
He pulled off his shirt, studying his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He had a huge scar running from his right shoulder down to his left hip. He pulled a t-shirt on, wincing at the still slight pain in his shoulder. He ran a finger though his curls, noticing that his dark roots were showing a little bit.  
  
“Mental note. Hair dye.” He said out loud, registering it into his mind palace.  
  
He quickly brushed his teeth, glancing at the clock. It was nearly midnight, and he had to get up at 4 to make sure to catch his flight. Burrowing under the covers, he closed his eyes, attempting to fall asleep.  
  
Turning over, he looked at the clock. 2:30am, it read. Of course he wouldn’t be getting sleep. His phone beeped with another text message, and he grabbed his phone, unlocking it. “He is comfortable. Becca is looking after him. MH”  
  
Sherlock locked his phone, closing his eyes, drifting into a content sleep.


	3. Those Eyes...

John stared up at Becca, smiling softly. “So I can leave?” He asked, his smile brightening.  
  
She chuckled and nodded. “Yes, John. You’re free to leave.”  
  
He stood up, grabbing the pair of jeans on the chair and slipping them under his hospital gown. When he had that on, he pulled off the gown, putting on his button shirt. “I was wondering if you’d like to get a drink when you finish your shift.” He asked casually, watching her reaction carefully.  
Becca bit her lip, chewing on it for a moment. “I’d love to.” She finally piped, looking over at him.  
“Those eyes” he thought, blinking. They looked exactly like Sherlock’s just a little more blue. He shook his head, then smiled. “Alright. You finish in…” He glanced down at his watch. “An hour. Right?”  
  
She laughed, shaking her head. “John Watson! You’ve memorized my work schedule?!” A grin spread across her face as he walked toward her.  
  
“I had to do something in my spare time.” He said, reaching behind her to grab his coat, getting closer to her.  
  
Her eyes widened a bit, and she stepped back. “Right.”  
  
John laughed, shaking his head and put on his coat. “So I’ll come and pick you up? Because I know that Cindy drove you here this morning.” He said, zipping up his coat.  
“So you’re a stalker now?” She asked, crossing her arms, staring up at him.  
  
“Yes, I am.” He said with a wink.  
  
She rolled her eyes, then smiled. “I’ll see you then, John. I’m really excited.” She leaned up and quickly kissed his cheek, a blush spreading on her face.  
  
John’s eyes widened as he looked down at her, chuckling softly. “You never fail to surprise me, Becca Knight.”  
  
She laughed, turning to leave out the door. “Go do something and don’t hang around while you’re waiting for me to get off. Mary and Daniella are catching on.” She opened the door, flashing him a smile before disappearing out the door.  
  
John watched after her, then slipped out of the room in the opposite direction. He wandered around the hospital for a while, then left, heading for the pub down the street.  
  
‘Just one more hour.’ He thought to himself, pushing open the door to the pub. He ordered himself a beer, sitting down at the booth.  
  
“Be there in 30. BK” He got in a text message, smiling softly.  
“Right. Hurry, it’s starting to get busy. JW”

 

He took a drink of his beer, and then ordered another, watching the door.  
  
After about 45 minutes, he stood up, stretching as the small brunette walked into the room. “Hello, gorgeous.” He chimed, lightly kissing her cheek.  
  
Becca smiled up at him, blushing slightly. “Hello John. You’ve already been drinking.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m guessing we won’t be here for long.”  
  
John’s heart rate sped up for a moment as she blinked up at him, her pupils wide. “Right. I’ll get you a drink.”  
  
Ordering a wine for her, he then handed her the glass, getting another breathtaking smile, her eyes brightening. He bit the inside of his lip, preventing himself from commenting on how much they looked like Sherlock. How much /she/ looked like Sherlock. High cheekbones, a perfect jaw line. He felt his mind wander to what he would do if he ever got her alone, her body distracting him.  
  
“…John? Are you listening?”  
  
His eyes snapped back up to hers, a blush creeping up on his face as he realized he had been caught. “Right, yes.” Her eyebrow raised in a ‘oh really?’ look, causing him to laugh. “You’re distracting, Becca. I can’t help it.”  
  
She shook her head, standing up. “Well then, Mr. Watson, would you care to go somewhere else? My place for a cup of tea, maybe?”  
  
John stood, nodding quickly. “Yes, that would be fantastic.” He said, frowning at his slight change of mood. Then again, he had been on a dry streak for almost 6 months, and he was hoping to get lucky. But he didn’t want to use her just for sex, but he needed her. She knew so much about him, and wanted to know more.  
  
Her eyes darted over him and she nodded. “Let’s go. Don’t worry, John. I know my boundaries.” She placed a hand on his cheek, smiling softly. “You’re so much more than you think you are.” Pushing herself up on her toes, she lightly kissed his lips, and then pulled away.  
  
He nodded down at her as she turned, his mind blanking. He quickly followed after her, his body taking over anything that was about to happen.


	4. Danger

His breaths came in quick pants as he chased the other man, sweat forming on his brow. “GIVE IT UP, MORAN.” He yelled. Two months had passed, and he had already shot down the two men he had been hunting for weeks. Now only Sebastian Moran remained. He had kept him on his toes for almost a month now, and had chased him all the way from Germany to Paris, where he originally was supposed to be.  
  
He squatted behind one of the crates, pointing the gun over it. “Give it up Moran! You’re going to die!” He heard the bullet hit the wall behind his head and ducked again, cursing. He quickly darted around a barrel so that he could stand up. He heard a gunshot, then silence. He looked out behind the barrel and cursed. The alley way was empty. Moran had gotten away again. For the third time in two weeks. He kept the gun held out in front of him as he walked out, not hearing anything. When he got to the street, he slipped the gun into his trousers, mentally cursing himself again.  
  
He saw a woman walking past, and walked up to her. “pardonnez-moi madame. Avez-vous vu un homme aux cheveux blonds venir par ici?”  
  
She frowned, looking up at him. “I’m sorry…I’m not very fluent in French.”  
  
Sherlock smiled. English. Of course. “Perfect. I asked if you’d seen a blonde haired man come past here. Tall, blue eyes.” He said. He looked back down at her, his voice catching in his throat. “Harry?” He asked, his hands freezing at his sides.  
  
Her eyes widened, and she nodded. “How did you-?”  
  
“John Watson’s twin.” He cut in. She had the same face and eyes, but her hair was dyed a brown-red color. “Don’t tell him. Please. I’m not supposed to be alive.”  
  
Her eyes went angry and she lashed out at him. “Sherlock Bloody Holmes. You’re supposed to be dead. Do you realize my brother is dying because of you? Because of all the trauma he went though?!” She screamed at him, slapping him across the face.  
  
He stepped back, grabbing her wrist. “Harry! Stop, listen to me. I’m coming back soon. I’m going to save him. I have to save him.” He stared into her eyes, forcing her to look at him. “I’m going to do everything I can to keep him alive once I come back.” He said, letting go of her wrist.  
  
“You’d better. I’ve been talking to Becca, and she would hate you if you let him die.” She spat at him, pulling out her phone.  
  
Sherlock gaped at her. “Becca? You mean Becca Knight?” He asked, frowning.  
  
She nodded, her eyes narrowed. “You know her? She’s just a nurse at Barts.”  
  
“Mycroft and I knew her when we were kids>” He said, shaking his head. “I didn’t think she was still in London.” He quickly lied.  
  
Harry shrugged, looking around him. “I have to go Sherlock, I’m meeting Lindsey at Café sur la cinquième.” She said, slaughtering the French pronunciation.  
  
Sherlock nodded, shaking his head. “Just get to him as quickly as possible, Sherlock. Please.” She begged, then leaned up, kissing his cheek before hurrying away.  
  
He turned around, and was walking toward a café when he spotted the tall man running ahead of him. He broke out into a sprint, chasing him. “MORAN. YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE.” He yelled at him. He pulled his gun out of the back of his trousers, pulling his jacket back down. Moran suddenly turned a corner and Sherlock followed him. He almost ran straight into the barrel of the gun that was now put against his head.  
  
“You’re right. I can run, and I can’t hide. But I sure as hell can kill you.”  
  
Sherlock closed his eyes, his thinking speeding up to the speed of light. He twisted, his hand flying out to punch the man in the face, his left leg swinging up to kick the gun out of his hand. He heard Moran curse loudly as the gun hit the ground and Sherlock quickly snatched it up, pointing both guns at him. “Told you so.” Sherlock growled, pocketing the guns. “You’re coming with me.” He said, grabbing Sebastian by the collar of his shirt. He pushed him against the wall, fishing the cuffs out of his pocket. Clasping them to Sebastian’s wrists, he pushed the man along. “You belong in the UK prisons. Top Wanted I believe.” He said, hailing them a city cab. “You’re flight to the UK is waiting. With two wardens to show you there.” He said, pushing him inside. “Charles De Gaulle Aéroport s'il vous plait.” He snapped at the driver, who drove off immediately.  
  
“So you’re really going to make me suffer. Instead of just killing me, you’re going to let me rot in jail.”  
  
Sherlock jabbed him in the side with the gun, his eyes cold. “You were going to kill everyone I care about. I’m going to make you suffer. You’re not the only one who lost everything in The Fall. You lost Moriarty. I lost everyone I love. Do you know how hard that was?” He asked, pushing the gun harder. “I could shoot you dead, but I want you to feel my pain.”  
  
The cab came to a stop, and Sherlock got out, pulling Moran by his wrists, then pushed him though the airport. He spotted two of Mycroft’s men, giving them a slick smile. “Ah. Hello boys. I do believe this is the man you’re looking for. Sebastian Moran, caught by Sherlock Holmes. Give my brother love for me.” He said, turning and rushing out of the airport. Two more days and he can finally go back home. Back to John. Back to Mrs. Hudson. Back to Molly. No more Moriarty to wore about. Sebastian will be in prison, so no need to worry. He sat back in the cab seat, taking a deep breath watching the city go by. Now only to think of a way to reintroduce himself to John.


	5. (Un)Expected Happenings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely, Lovely Smut. I have my "sister" to thank for that. So, this chapter is dedicated to her. Love you Desi!

John stretched, looking over at Becca’s sleeping form. He quickly kissed her forehead, smiling as she stirred. “Go back to sleep, Becca. It’s only seven. You don’t have to be up for another half an hour.” She opened her eyes, then nodded, turning over.  
  
John threw the covers off of himself, shivering as the cold air washed over him. He grabbed his robe, pulling it on.

He looked around the flat, shaking his head. Sherlock’s skull still sat on the fireplace, where it had been for three years, and where it would continue for years more. John had refused to leave the flat, and Becca had understood. He made himself a cup of tea, glancing at the clock. He had an hour and a half before he had to be into work. Becca had kept him up all night trying to perfect her presentation for the superintendent, and wouldn’t sleep until it was perfect. He took a glass out for tea, and microwaved some water before letting the tea-bag seap. He heard a noise and looked up, a smile on his face.  
  
“Well hello there gorgeous.” He chimed, holding out the cup to Becca.  
  
Her hair was a tangled mess, and she looked exhausted. She pulled his dress shirt lower over her bum, giving him a soft smile as she took the cup.  
  
“Gorgeous is hardly the word I would use this early in the morning.” She said, sipping on the tea.  
  
John rolled his eyes, pulling her to him. “Don’t you even dare say that, Becca. You are gorgeous, and you will always be gorgeous.”  
  
She buried her face in his chest, her voice muffled. “You have to say it first.” She said, a pout on her lips.  
  
John’s eyebrow shot up, and he took her face in his hands. “Say what?” He asked, even though he already knew. “Say that I love you? I would think you knew this by now, Rabecca. You’re smart enough.”  
  
Her eyes lit up and she laughed. “John Hamish Watson! I can’t believe you!” She chirped, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yes, I’ve known. For almost a year now.”  
  
He shook his head, a soft smile on his face. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you make yourself wait so long?”  
  
“Because I love you, and I’d wait a thousand years for you, my love. That sounds so corny, but it’s true.” She glanced over at the clock, then back to his face. “We have an hour before we have to start really getting ready. What do you say we take a shower?”  
  
John stared down at her for a moment, then quickly nodded.  
  
In the two months they had been official, they’d only had sex four times. For John, it wasn’t a big deal. Even if it was, he’d never let it show. He watched as she slowly unbuttoned the shirt she was wearing, walking slowly towards the bathroom. John waited a few moments before following her, smiling as he walked around his discarded shirt on the floor of the hallway. He heard the sound of the shower going and decided to join Rabecca in the shower.  
  
“John...” Rabecca’s voice was a cross between a sigh and a yelp as he pressed himself against her, his hands reaching around to cup her pert breasts, kneading them. She leaned back into his embrace, her hands going to his legs, running up and down them. John slid one hand down Becca’s water-slicked skin, tickling and ghosting over well-remembered erogenous zones, until his fingers found her sex, one finger sliding between her slick folds. Rabecca moaned and turned in his arms, her own arms sliding around his shoulders as his finger flicked over her clit, the lightest of touches wringing a series of moans from her beautiful mouth. His mouth latched onto her, his tongue lapping at hers as his fingers slipped past the tender bundle of nerves to slide into her, curving to find just the right spot. John maneuvered them until Becca’s back was against the wall of the shower, his finger sliding in and out of her, her mouth devouring his until he had to break away before he was starved of oxygen. The strawberry-sweet scent of her soap is all around them as John feels Becca’s walls clamp around his fingers and then she’s moaning and just about screaming John’s name, her orgasm washing over both of them. He gingerly removes his fingers from her before hitching her leg up so that he’s lined up with her entrance. John tried to go slow but Becca had other ideas as she leaned forward and impaled herself on his cock in one movement, kissing John to stifle his surprised yelp of pleasure. He let her dominate this kiss, her tongue forcing his whichever way she wanted it until she was done, breaking their kiss and leaning back to grab the shower rod for balance with one hand and John’s uninjured shoulder with the other. John smiled at her with an impish glee before he started thrusting, slowly at first, just to make her impatient. Soon, Becca started to roll her hips to try and increase the friction between them and John knew she was close to her second orgasm but not close enough. He knew his Becca so he started thrusting in earnest.  
  
“Touch yourself because I’m close, Becca.” John’s voice was gravelly and hoarse. Becca moaned, the hand on the shower rod snaking down her body to play with her nipples first. John’s thrust faltered when she began to pinch and pull on the small, sensitive buds, causing herself to inhale sharply. One hand continued down until one finger brushed over her swollen, sensitive clit, wringing a drawn out moan of pleasure. The warm water beating down on them along with the site of Becca pleasuring herself, one hand still pinching and rolling one nipple and then the other while her other hand was pressed between her body and John even as he thrust into her warmth...what a sight they had to be.  
  
“Oh God, John...I’m...” Becca’s hand between them stilled as her mouth fell open, gasps and pants falling from her open lips, a mixture of John’s name and other incoherent noises. John thrust a few more times and then he felt himself empty into her, her walls constricting around his hard length setting the domino effect of his own orgasm and he felt warm from the inside out while his cock was still surrounded by Rabecca’s still wet heat.  
  
After what felt like hours, John lowered Becca’s leg and moved back so they could actually get showered before they were standing under completely cold water.  
  
“Not a terrible start to the day, was it?” John kissed Becca on the nose when they were both fully dressed on each on their way out of the flat.


	6. He's Back

Sherlock looked down at London as the plane landed, trying to keep the smile off his face. He was finally going to see John again, although he would have to wait another month.  
  
He stepped out into the terminal, his coat billowing behind him as he rushed out to the main doors to catch a cab. He climbed into the back, giving the man directions to the flat he was going to be living in. He paid the cabbie, and jumped out, grabbing the small bag in the trunk. Throwing it over his shoulder, he bounded up the stairs into the flat. Letting out a soft sigh, he frowned. The flat was smaller than Baker Street, even upon request to Mycroft. But he was just a mere 10 blocks from Baker Street.  
  
He picked up his phone, shooting a text to his older brother. “I want surveillance on the two of them. Rabecca and John. SH”  
  
He was informed that Becca and Mycroft were getting serious, and John had told Mycroft he had professed his love for her. A pang of something...Jealousy maybe, pulsed though Sherlock. He shook it off, trying to hold back the emotions. Pulling off his coat, he hung it up on the back of the door. He opened the kitchen cabinets, only to find them empty.  
  
He frowned, looking over at the clock. John would still be at work. He could chance a quick trip to Speedy’s and to see Mrs. Hudson. He had told her two weeks before he arrived that he was alive, and would do anything to see her again.  
  
He dug through his bag, finding the scarf John had given him for Christmas, and tied it around his neck. “Joh-” He stopped halfway out the door, halting. He had almost told John he was going out, but had realized, of course, he was alone. He was always alone.  
  
He pushed open the door into the cold London air, pulling his coat tighter around his body had he headed toward Baker Street.  
  
He pushed into the door of Speedy’s, getting a shocked look from one of the girls who worked behind the counter. “But-”  
  
He put his hand up, his lips in a straight line. “You should expect nothing less of me.” He said, grabbing a few items. “No, John does not know yet, and I really wish I could be the one to tell him. So don’t say anything.”  
  
This remark got him a quick nod and then a wave of the hand. “Take those things for free. Mycroft phoned us. He has everything for you payed for the next three months.”  
  
Sherlock nodded, taking the things in a bag. “Has Becca been around?” He asked, looking around the small shop.  
  
The woman nodded. “Yes, of course she has. She’s down here almost every day.”  
  
Sherlock nodded, his eyes going slightly sad. “She doesn’t know I’m back. Only Mycroft does.” He stated, chewing on the inside of his lip. “She should know soon.”  
  
She nodded in sympathy. “Take care of yourself, Sherlock. Go see them as soon as possible.”  
  
Sherlock nodded, waving her off. “I will. I promise. But it’s still too soon.”  
She shrugged as Sherlock left, his coat billowing behind him.  
He looked up at 221B and sighed. He couldn’t go there now. Not yet. He felt a pang in his chest, but shook it off.  
“Sherlock?”  
He whipped around, met by blue eyes mirroring his. “B-Becca.” He stuttered, his eyes wide. Not yet. Too soon. His mind was racing as she took him in, emotions flashing through her eyes. Suddenly, he was wrapped in a tight embrace, tears streaming down her face.  
  
“You bloody idiot. You weren’t supposed to be back for another month. I’ve missed you.” She beamed up at him, her grin wide.  
  
“Rabecca Holmes, I hope you haven’t said anything to John. I mean, about us.”  
  
She shook her head, her curls bouncing slightly. “Of course not. If he knew, it would only make things worse. Would you care to come in? Mrs. Hudson misses you dearly and would love to see you again.”  
  
He untangled her arms from him and shook his head. “You know I can’t, Becca. I can’t even risk it. As soon as I know Moran is safe in jail, then I can.”  
  
Becca nodded, still smiling slightly. “I’m really proud of you, Sherlock. For saving John like that. Mycroft is too. I just wish he could be here.”  
  
Right on cue, Sherlock’s phone buzzed. “Be careful, brother. Don’t want John coming home too soon. MH” He sighed, showing the text to Becca.  
“He won’t be back for another two hours.” She said, pushing the phone back to Sherlock. “Just please, come up. Even if it’s for 10 minutes. The flat seems lonely without you.”  
  
Sherlock sighed, then stopped. “Why haven’t you told me?”  
  
Becca stopped, frowning slightly. “Told you what?”  
  
His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “Don’t lie to me. I know exactly what’s going on.”  
  
She sighed and shook her head. “I haven’t told John yet. I don’t know if I really want him to know. We’ve only been official for three months.”  
  
Sherlock wrapped his arm around her shoulder, frowning. “You have to tell him, Becca. There’s no reason to be afraid. He loves you, and you know it.”  
  
She nodded, sighing. “But Sherlock...We’re not-”  
  
He cut her off, shaking his head again. “Rabecca Holmes, you listen to me. He’s going to find out eventually, and the sooner the better.”  
  
Becca nodded, leaning into him. “I know he loves me. And I know he would never leave me. Especially now that I’m having his child. Wow..I’m going to be a mother. You’re going to be an uncle.”  
  
Sherlock nudged her, laughing. “Don’t get all sentimental. Us Holmes aren’t supposed to. Has Mycroft already figured it out? I mean, if he’s seen you he should have.”  
  
She shook her head. “No...He hasn’t seen me. I purposefully avoided him, Sherlock. I know he’s just as much of a genius as us.”  
Sherlock nodded, watching her again. “I’ve got to go, Becca. I don’t want John knowing I’m alive just yet. I’ll see you in a month.” He quickly kissed her cheek, pulling her into a hug. “I love you. Don’t say anything to John.”  
  
Becca nodded, hugging him back. “I’m going to tell him tonight. I’ll call you and tell you how it goes.” She called after him as he left.  
  
He waved at her over his shoulder, laughing. “He’ll be ecstatic!”


	7. Love is in the Air

John unlocked the door to 221B, walking up the stairs. “Becca! Love, I’m home. Are you almost ready?”  
  
Becca came out of their bedroom wearing a gorgeous red dress John had bought her a few weeks ago. It was long, with a slit up the side. Low cut, but not so low. John almost gasped aloud, his jaw dropping.  
  
"My god Beeca. You look amazing." He said, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her softly. She chuckled, kissing him back for a moment.  
  
"Yes, I know. Now hurry. We don't want to be late." She smiled up at him, her eyes shining bright. Almsot as if she knew what was going to happen that night.  
  
John kissed her quickly again and rushed up the stairs to their room, passing Sherlock's old room. He almost hesitated, but pushed the thought to the back of his mind. Tonight was about them. No thinking about Sherlock. He quickly changed into a suit, a red tie to match the color of Becca's dress. He came back downstairs in under 10 minutes, holding out his arm. "Ready my love?" He asked, his blue eyes shining.  
  
She nodded, taking his arm, noticing he was shaking slightly, but obviously said nothing.  
\---  
They arrived at Angelo's, and were shown to their table in the back. John pulled out the chair for Becca, then sat down himself. There was a candle in the center and he laughed slightly. "I remember the first time Sherlock and I came here. Angelo though I was his date."  
  
Becca couldn't help but laugh at that. "You never told me that. Although I could see where he was coming from. Two very handsome men sitting with each other. People easily jump to conclusions."  
  
John rolled his eyes, taking the menu from Angelo. He wouldn't be eating...He did that lately. Not eat. Ever since Sherlock died, his PTSD had come back. Becca helped a bit, but not enough. She hated it when he didn't eat, but she knew he couldn't help it. John ordered a small cup of soup, watching the look on Becca's face soften, and she ordered her normal Pasta alla Carbarona.  
  
The ring weighed heavy in John's pocket as they ate in near silence. He cleared his throat, looking up at her. "Is that good?" He asked awkwardly. Angelo had told him they were getting a new chef after the last one was caught screwing a waitress in the kitchen.  
  
She nodded, twirling some onto her fork and holding it out for John. He took the fork, taking the food into his mouth, his tastebuds exploding with the flavor. "That's amazing." He exclaimed after swallowing.  
  
Becca nodded, taking a sip of her..Water, John noticed. She always ordered wine or a martini. He shook it off, thinking that she just wanted to be sober for once. She was too much like Sherlock. Instead of a drug problem, it was an alcohol problem.  
  
Becca looked up at John, noticing the intense look on his face. "If you keep doing that, you're face will get stuck that way." She chirped, giggling at the end.  
John shook his head. "Then you must've stood in front of the mirror for ages acting beautiful."  
  
"Stop being so corny, John. It doesn't fit you." She said, laughing. John's mood had lifted recently, and she couldn't figure out why. Parts of John were still a mystery to her, even as well as she knew him.  
  
John smiled as their plates were taken away, and he lightly set his hand on the ring in his pocket, which had been heavy all night. He stood up, clearning his throat. The restaurant wasn't very crowded that night, so everyone's attention was grabbed immedately.  
  
"Three years ago, I lost my best friend. Everyone may know exactly who he was. The infamous Sherlock Holmes. One month after, I was lucky enough to meet this beautiful woman sitting before me. Becca Knight. She was my friend for quite some time before I had the courage to ask her to be my girlfriend. We've shared so many memories together, and I would love to share many more." He turned to look at Becca, who had an almost shocked look on her face. He got down on one knee and pulled out the ring. "Becca, I know we may not have been together for very long, but I've loved you since the moment we met. Will you give me the pure honor of being my wife?"  
  
Becca's smile grew by the second, and she nodded as tears filled her eyes. "Of course I will be!" She sprung up, wrapping her arms around John's neck, kissing him hard. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long."  
  
John grinned, taking her left hand and sliding the ring onto her finger. A perfect fit, of course. "This was my mother's. She told me to save it for you, when you first met her. She knew you were eventually going to be my wife."  
  
Becca shook her head, laughing. "Your mother was quite intent on us getting married. She'll be so excited to hear."  
  
"Yes, she will." A voice said behind John.  
  
John spun around, his mind going completely blank at the sight of the man he though was dead.


End file.
